


Less than Guests

by doublejoint



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29748024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Haruhi's father and Renge think along the same exaggerated lines.
Relationships: Fujioka Haruhi/Houshakuji Renge
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2021: Apocalypse No





	Less than Guests

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 27 of the February Ficlet Challenge: War

Once a week, on Haruhi’s dad’s night off from the bar, Haruhi goes home for dinner. She would have done it anyway, but her father had insisted on it when she moved out, and it’s not something she plans on stopping. When Haruhi had moved in with Renge, she’d thought the frequency might decrease--a foolish thought, given how well Renge gets along with her father. They think along the same exaggerated lines, so easily lost in a daydream version of reality--harmless, most of the time, and sometimes it’s pretty entertaining to watch both of them float up to the ceiling in the same flight of fancy.

After dinner, Renge notices the faucet in the bathroom sink is leaking again, and two minutes later she’s under it with a wrench in her hand. It’s still strange to see her doing this, even though as long as Haruhi’s known her she’s known how good Renge is at this kind of mechanical thing. Haruhi will give herself the benefit of the doubt, though; Renge had definitely had someone else build a lot of her stuff back in high school. She hadn’t known any of this back then.

“You know, Ranka-san, if you got some new tile here…” Renge’s voice floats in from the bathroom.

“Where? Oh--what kind?”

“It would be super cute if you got some pale purple ones…”

Haruhi tunes the conversation out. Maybe this is a good project for both of them--if Renge’s focused on making little “upgrades” to this apartment, she won’t be doing them in their own apartment (and Haruhi’s father will be much more appreciative than Haruhi, at least in terms of ideas--she might suggest something he can’t afford, but she’s much better at working within a budget now). Or, more likely maybe, they’ll give each other ideas; give either one of them the impression you’re letting them have anything and they’ll take and take. 

There’s probably some psychology behind this, wanting to be with someone like your parents, but it sounds way outdated even thinking it concretely in her head. But there might be some truth to it; Renge is the kind of person Haruhi knows how to deal with, how to live with. She understands the way Renge thinks, to an extent. (The video game stuff, not really, but you can’t have everything.) Is it the same for Renge?

The voices from the bathroom have grown quiet, and Haruhi’s too paranoid to think that means anything good. She stands up from the table. Two steps and she can see into the bathroom; they’re both peering at the tiles.

“Oh, Haruhi!” says her father. “Finally taking an interest in remodeling the bathroom?”

“No,” says Haruhi. “Just wanted to see what you were doing.”

She picks up their plates and takes them into the kitchen to wash the dishes; a breeze is blowing through the open window. The screen rattles in the frame. If they’re talking now, the sound of the kitchen faucet will drown them out, but a few seconds later Renge appears.

“Let me help.”

“You’re both guests!” Haruhi’s father calls.

Haruhi rolls her eyes. Even if she doesn’t live there anymore, this place is still home, and Renge’s over here often enough--Haruhi’s hand slips on the plate as she dries it, and she nearly drops it.

“Haruhi-kun?”

“Sorry,” says Haruhi. “I was just spacing out.”

She wants it to be home for Renge, too. 

This kind of revelation always comes sneaking up on Haruhi, like a bucket of water balanced on top of the door, an obvious setup she still can’t see because she’s never looking for it. It had happened back in high school, with Kaoru and Hikaru and Tamaki, and it had happened when she and Renge had first gotten together, and--oh, fuck, she cannot let either of the twins or Mei know about this.

But what is there to know? That things have gotten serious? She lives with Renge. Of course they spend a lot of time with Haruhi’s father; he lives alone, and Renge’s family are all still in France. It’s not like Haruhi has to really say anything; Renge’s clearly comfortable there. And nothing’s changed, just the revelation of how deep and serious this all is, hitting her over and over again. It’s a good feeling, but also a little like pressure. (Haruhi’s not going to ask Renge if they can fly to France and get married right away--she’s not even sure she wants that at all, or, for that matter, that Renge does.)

It just is, the cold water still dripping down Haruhi’s face as she adjusts to it. But it’s not bad.

* * *

Haruhi comes home from the office the next evening to find Renge lying on the couch, playing some kind of war video game, her character creeping around on a rooftop, switching from weapon to weapon. 

“Damn it, I forgot to pick up a sniper rifle.” 

“Can’t you use a different kind?”

“No, it’ll never work for this mission...ugh.”

Renge’s character backtracks, then jumps off the roof onto the street. She pauses the game.

“Come and play with me!”

“What about dinner?”

“We can get takeout…”

Haruhi considers. She doesn’t really feel like cooking tonight; her feet hurt. She doesn’t really want to play a shooting game either, but it might be fun. (Sitting on the couch will definitely be fun.) 

“Okay. Let me get changed.”

When she returns, Renge’s character is back on the roof, this time with an apparently adequate weapon.

“Okay, so use these controls,” Renge says, shoving the controller into Haruhi’s hands as she sits down. She places her hands over top, moving Haruhi’s fingers into the right position. Sometimes Haruhi wonders if this isn’t just a shameless excuse to flirt more than sharing her interest--even she’s not dense enough to realize that it’s at latest partly that. Renge rests her head on Haruhi’s shoulder, and Haruhi hits what she thinks is the trigger, and shoots straight into the ground. 

“You have to adjust the crosshairs--like this.”

After a few more tries, Haruhi’s out of bullets, so she hands the controller back to Renge.

“I still think you’d like Ace Attorney,” she says.

“It’s nothing like my job.”

“Would anyone play a video game about reading through contracts?” Renge wrinkles her nose.

“People are strange,” says Haruhi. 

“True, true,” says Renge.

She winds one arm through the crook of Haruhi’s elbow and yawns. Her eyes are glued to the screen, intense, like she’s hunting something down. She may be watching the game, but Haruhi would rather watch her. And--wherever they are together, whatever they’re doing, that’s home, isn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
